


A New Hope

by xIreth



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Character Death, Hiatus, M/M, Mpreg, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-07-25
Updated: 2011-07-24
Packaged: 2017-10-21 17:58:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xIreth/pseuds/xIreth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of fleeing after Day of Black Sun, the invasion stayed and fought. The Fire Nation was victorious and the Avatar died. The Fire Nation needs to find the new Avatar and they know it will be part of the Water Tribe. What happens now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any part of the Avatar: the Last Airbender franchise. All I own is the plot and writing. I am not making any money from this.

“Aang! No!”

Sokka turned from the fire nation soldier he was battling with at his sister’s scream, just in time to see the Avatar fall from his glider. His eyes widened and he started to leap over a fallen body only to get pulled back by his opponent. The tribesman struggled against the hold as he watched Aang hit the ground with a sickening crunch.

Katara hastily froze her own opponent in a casing of ice and rushed over to Aang. She fell onto her knees and clutched at his body.

“Aang, no! You can’t…” she trailed off, tears spilling down her face and gently set him down. She desperately started to heal any wounds, refusing to believe what she knew was true; Aang was dead. She didn’t have any more of the special healing water and the Avatar was now dead. She choked back a sob, her body shaking in exhaustion as it tried to keep up with her mind.

“Katara—watch out!”

She turned at her brother’s voice only to come face-to-face with a soldier. She gasped as a white hot pain seared through her body, her instincts shifting her body weight into the movements for a water whip.

Sokka watched in growing horror as he watched his only sister fall to the ground, impaled on—ironically—a Water Tribe spear after slicing open the throat of an enemy soldier.

Tears steadily ran down his face now and he thrashed in the enemy’s grip. He didn’t smirk in triumph as he earned a grunt from the nameless soldier as he elbowed him harshly in the gut. He broke free and stumbled over to his fallen friends, trying to hold back his sobs.

A warrior does not cry, damnit. _He_ doesn’t cry.

A sob broke free as he mimicked Katara’s movements from earlier and clutched her body to his after breaking off the spearhead and taking the weapon back out.

“Katara!” he screeched, “Katara, wake up! You have to… Y-you have to heal…” A gasp broke through a new sob and he saw lights appear before his eyes, a sharp pain exploding at the base of his skull. “…y-your…self,” he whispered out before falling over unconscious onto the bodies of his two friends.

\---

When Sokka awoke the first thing he was aware of was pain.

The next was cold metal digging into his body. Suddenly it was gone, then back in a vicious prod. He let out a grunt and rolled over, only to be stopped by someone grabbing his shirt and lifting him bodily.

“Get up, you miserable cur,” a voice grunted into his ear before shoving him forward. “It’s time to start your first duty to your new Lord.”

Sokka pushed himself up onto his knees and craned his neck to look at the other. “New… _what_?” he asked, almost screaming out the last word if it hadn’t been for his dry throat.

The fire nation soldier narrowed his eyes behind the white face plate. “Get up and walk,” he commanded instead of answering the question and pointed his spear down the hall.

The Water Tribe teen narrowed his eyes and stood up on shaky legs, weak from not having moved who-knows-how-long. Sokka walked down the hall, barely taking in the red colors and others dragging their feet beside him as he tried to remember what had happened. Anything he remembered flew out of his mind once his eyes adjusted to the light outside and took in the scene before him.

Patches of fire burned throughout the grounds on fallen bodies, foliage and random pieces of debris. Bodies were littered everywhere, no obvious distinctions between his comrades or his enemies. It stunk horribly of burnt flesh and hair and Sokka felt bile rise into the back of his throat. He stumbled forward when pushed by the guard.

“Time to start cleaning,” the soldier said, a sneer clearly on his face behind the mask from the tone in his voice. He pushed Sokka again before sitting down to watch their prisoners clean up the spoils of war.

Sokka’s body went forward on autopilot, walking through the sea of dead bodies. His eyes misted over with tears as he recognized some of the warriors of his own tribe. He choked back a sob and started to carry a body towards the ocean for the traditional burial of his tribe.

After doing this a couple of times his face had hardened to a mask of indifference. He swatted viciously at a small flock of pigeoncrows which were trying to get a meal from one of the many fallen bodies. He turned around with a body slung over a shoulder and froze.

His eyes went wide and his knees buckled under him and sent him falling down, the cadaver sliding back to ground. Tears stung harshly at his eyes as his mask of indifference broke and he turned away, emptying his stomach onto the stone ground.

In front of him, a few paces away, lay the bodies of Katara and Aang. Old, dry blood crusted around them, the burns on Aang and the deep hole in his sister’s stomach were the only evidence that they were dead instead of sleeping in the sea of corpses.

Sokka couldn’t stop crying nor get up and eventually had to be hauled away by the disgruntled guard.

The war was over. They had lost, he had failed, and the Fire Nation had won.

There was no more hope.


	2. New Life

Zuko gazed around the Fire Lord’s hall from his seat at the long table. They had won, but nothing seemed to have changed. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to happen if they won—would the world be off-kilter? Would everyone die? Would there be a big celebration? Would he finally get acknowledgment from his father?—but _nothing_ wasn’t what he expected.

A small part of his mind was still having doubts about his actions—especially betraying his uncle—but it’s not like he could change his mind. At least he had chosen the winning side. Right?

The Fire Nation’s Prince was startled out of his musings as the dais was surrounded by fire and his father took his place behind the flames. He inclined his head in respect along with everyone else at the table.

“Fire Lord Ozai,” addressed one of the higher ranking Generals, “There is nothing stopping the Nation’s victory now that the Avatar has been defeated so close to Sozin’s Comet’s reappearance. But, as I’m sure you know, there are still numerous details and problems to solve.” The General paused, only resuming his speech once the Fire Lord gave his consenting nod.

“First and foremost, I think, is to address that we were told the Avatar had _already_ died. Killed by your son, in fact.” He shot a quick glance over to Zuko, whose face tightened a little in stress. “I propose that we—“

“General,” Ozai interrupted, “The last Avatar is, now, irrefutably dead, correct?” He raised a questioning eyebrow, barely seen behind the wall of fire. “And Zuko has stayed loyal to us, to me, in the end despite… everything?”

“Well, ah… Yes, sir. But—“

“Then I see no reason to bring it up.”

The General bowed his head in recognition of the hint to move on. “Yes, my Lord. Then the next problem we should address is—“

Zuko tuned out the others voice, internally frowning. He was glad to not be punished for the lie—for that’s what it was, not a lack of knowledge—but he couldn’t help be suspicious. The tone of voice his father had used meant he was satisfied but not happy. He didn’t know if he was to remain unpunished or not, but at least he knew to keep an eye open now. It was a small matter, now that the Avatar was dead, but better safe than sorry his uncle had always said.

His eyes narrowed by a fraction as his thoughts turned to his uncle. How had he escaped the prison hold so easily? _I suppose he wasn’t called Dragon of the West for nothing_ , he mused bitterly. He really regretted disappointing his uncle, but he knew what he had done was right in the end. It had to be.

“—from the Water Tribes, so we must do to them what we accomplished with the Air Nomads,” a different voice said, cutting through Zuko’s thoughts.

 _That’s right_ , Zuko thought, _the Avatar hasn’t been killed forever. The cycle will still continue_. His forehead creased in a frown before he hesitantly addressed the warlord’s in the room. He was still nervous about making a mistake like the last time he’d been in here.

“But, ah… Despite the past victory of wiping out the Air Nomads, one had still survived; the Avatar. It’s possible this could happen again.” He glanced around at all the faces—some surprised and some neutral. “After all, it has been just over a week since the last Avatar’s death. Word must have gotten around by now and, for all we know, the new one could be recognized and is moving into hiding as we speak.”

There were a few consenting nods around the table. The Fire Lord gave a slow smile at his son, which sent a shiver down Zuko’s spine instead of comforting him. “A good observation. Do you have any ideas, _son_?” he asked almost mockingly.

Zuko glanced down at his hands folded in his lap, then back up at his father, determination shining his eyes. “We shouldn’t just kill them off. We need to… to control them. Control their population and culture somehow. Closer than if— _when_ they all become Fire Nation.”

“Yes,” the first General agreed, “we could plan another invasion up north. I think we can spare enough men for that and they shouldn’t put up much of a fight with their Avatar gone. And a smaller fleet to go South; there aren’t many still living there. My Lord?” He looked up to Ozai, seeking his approval to the rough plan.

Ozai nodded after a moment’s thought. “Yes, I think this could work. Once there, don’t hesitate to kill any benders; they will be too dangerous to keep locked away. The elderly will be of no help and so will any child—they will be too old to be the new Avatar and too young to be of any use. Kill them all as well. Imprison those who are left and bring them back.” He paused and smiled slowly, giving an approving nod. “We will need new slaves around here once those truly loyal are needed to oversee the other countries. We will keep them closely guarded and we will shape any child they make to our standards. The new Avatar will only be loyal to my Nation and me.”

Zuko looked back down at his lap, hiding a forming frown. He didn’t enjoy the idea of killing children but it was for the good of the future and his father made a valid point—they would only be extra mouths to feed with no use. He smoothed his features and looked back up as his father continued.

“Spread the word through the armies and get the fleets together. By the end of this week we will be on our way to conquering the Water Tribes permanently.”

\--

Sokka glared at the floor as he scrubbed at it viciously. He’d been a forced servant, a slave, at the palace for over a month now and it didn’t seem to be getting any easier. So many people— _his_ people, he reminded himself bitterly—he had known arrived had just days before. They had seemed broken and he could only speculate why. He didn’t dare ask what had happened and no one wanted to talk about the horrors and murders they’ve seen, but it seemed obvious to him when he had seen his own tribe minus Gran-Gran or any of the boys he had tried to train.

He wanted to at least be there for anyone who needed a shoulder to cry on—since it was his own plan that brought disaster upon them, after all—but they kept him busy, very busy. They had decided it was only fitting he serve only under their ( _never_ his; _they would never be, no matter how much they try_ , he thought as he scrubbed harder) royalty since he had been Aang’s close friend, he supposed, and they had noticed he was the brains behind it all, so they always kept him busy. Only time to eat, work, then pass out in sleep—never plan an escape or counter attack to finish the battle how it was _supposed_ to—

Sokka let out a small squeak as his thoughts were cut short by a harsh tug that pulled him to his feet. He quickly gained his own footing and looked over to who had interrupted his thoughts with a scowl set on his face.

The guard ran her gaze over his body with a disgusted sneer. “I don’t know why, but you’re to be put through special training for your new job around here. Follow me.”

Sokka narrowed his eyes and resisted the urge to squirm under the others harsh gaze. It didn’t matter if you hated someone or not: a bad appraisal was always uncomfortable. He followed the guard without a word, just glad to not be cleaning anymore. At least he now had more respect for women and their work.

The guard stopped in front of a door and opened it, standing off to the side. “Clean yourself. Thoroughly. Your new set of clothes is laid out inside. Your teacher will be here in an hour.”

He blinked his eyes in confusion, but stepped forward into the room and the door closed after him. He looked around the room; a large tub was filled with steaming water with a few smaller buckets next to it. A couple different soaps and shampoos were lined up next to a scrubber and other grooming products and tools.

A small smile appeared on his face—the first in a long time—and he moved farther in the room. He didn’t know what his new job was or why he had one, but if he got to have a real bath he was all for it. He stripped off his clothes quickly and threw them into the far corner. He knew they’d be burned and they rightly should be—he’d been wearing them for weeks now.

Grabbing one of the buckets, he poured it over himself, shivering at its coldness. He worked quickly to scrub off the dirt from his body before working on his hair. After cleaning it, he trimmed his hair since most of it was getting way too long for his liking then shaved off any facial hair.

Sokka let another smile onto his face as he sunk into the now warm water until only his head was above the surface. He was clean and content to just laze about until forced to move again. He was sure it wouldn’t be long until who ever this teacher was arrived, but he deserved this rest.

He sunk lower and released a sigh, bubbles forming in the water in front of his face. After soaking another ten minutes, he forced himself out of the tub to dry off. He left the towel to hang off the top of his head as he inspected his new clothes. He picked up the folded cloth and his face paled.

“What the hell?” he muttered to himself, eyeing the small cloth distastefully. The clothes in the other corner were nowhere near wearable—especially now that he was clean—so he wrapped the long, red cloth around his waist twice before tying the ends and tucking the knot inside the waistline. There was nothing else to put on, so he sat down on the protruding bench and, internally sulking, waited for this teacher to show up.

\--

It really was a bittersweet reunion for Hahn. He had already forced himself to come into terms with never seeing his family again and to always be under the Fire Nation’s rule. Seeing the last remnants of his family and culture put under a constant watch and fall apart… It almost caused another part of him to break.

Almost. To him, his tribe had disowned him by not searching when they had defeated Zhao; so he, in turn, had disowned them. And now there really was nothing left for him to hope for—there was a very small chance the Fire Nation would let the Avatar slip out of their grasp again.

Hahn flicked his hair behind his shoulder as he made his way down the halls towards the cleaning room. It was the only consolation he got for obeying without even a dirty look, to get the satisfaction of training the new prey—that’s what they really were, after all, to the Fire Nation—and eating better meals.

He made sure his sarong was correctly in place before opening the door.

\--

Sokka looked over when he heard a soft jingling then the door opened. He quickly rose to his feet when he recognized the other as Water Tribe. He frowned and brought a hand up to rub his chin in thought. His eyes widened a little, hand dropping slightly to point at the other. “Wait—Hahn? Is that you?”

Hahn raised an eyebrow while studying the younger boy. He seemed familiar but— “Oh. Peasant boy,” he said with a small sneer. “How wonderful.”

Sokka scowled and folded his arms across his chest. “My _name_ is Sokka. But what are you doing here?”

“As sharp as ever, I see, _Sokka_. I’m here to teach you. Obviously.”

“ _You’re_ the teacher? Oh, this is just great,” he groused, sulking more. “Well, what do I have to do for those jerkbenders anyway?” Sokka snickered to himself at his joke.

Hahn rolled his eyes. “Anything they ask. And if you’re lucky, you’ll only have to serve one person.”

Sokka frowned, sitting back down. “Care to elaborate?”

With a sigh, Hahn spoke again, “You are going to be a multi-purpose servant now, not just a cleaner. You will still clean, but you also could have the duties of a cook, caretaker, or workman. Although I’m sure you won’t have to worry about too many jobs considering how useless you are—“

“Shut up!”

“—but in addition to those,” he continued, ignoring Sokka’s outcry, “you will also be responsible for any sexual relief your master or mistress of that time wants.”

Sokka’s eyes widened and he started to sputter, standing up again in indignation. “What?! Oh, _spirits_ no!” he yelled, face twisted in disbelief. “There’s no way I’m doing that for the Fire Nation!”

“You don’t have a choice in whether or not you want to. You will and if you need to, you can always picture someone else. Yue, maybe?” he goaded, smirking.

Sokka snarled and threw a punch at the other boy, hitting him on his lower jaw. “Don’t you _dare_ talk about her! And why are you doing this?! Don’t you remember they’re our enemies? They killed our families and we should be planning to kill _them_ , not working to,” he hesitated, his expression turning sour again, “please them.”

“I know. But at least they care to see that I’m alive. Which is more than I can say for my real family.”

“If we had known you were alive, we would have all gone out searching and brought you back, you know that.”

Hahn frowned and looked away. “Either way, I’m just surviving with what I’ve been given. It’s all we can do anymore, right?”

Sokka looked away this time, knowing he was right but not wanting to acknowledge it. Hahn smirked to himself, knowing he had won the argument.

“Okay, now get on your knees.”

Sokka looking back up at Hahn, instinctively taking a step back. “What?”

Sighing, Hahn repeated himself, “Get on your knees. I need to see what you know and how I can help you improve. How far have you ever gotten?”

He crossed his arms over his chest again, a light blush crossing his cheeks. “Just kissing.”

“Figures. Okay, get on your knees,” he said again, “And I’m not repeating myself. Most of the time you won’t even get orders to do something in the first place; you’re expected to just know.”

Sokka felt his face grow warmer and reluctantly knelt on the ground. He gazed up at Hahn in nervousness, not sure what to do.

The older boy sighed and rubbed at his temple lightly. “Undress me,” he commanded.

Sokka lowered his gaze and let out a nervous breath. He forced his arms and hands to not shake as he undid the knot holding up the other male’s sarong. He let it fall to the floor then looked up at Hahn’s face again.

Hahn crossed his arms and cocked his hip to the side just a bit. “Now arouse me. Get me off.” He smirked, and then  
added, “Sucking usually works best.”

Sokka glared at him, the lingering blush on his face heating up again. He dropped his gaze again and hesitantly reached a hand up to caress the other’s cock. His fingertips gently slid down and he took a small breath, exhaling slowly before wrapping his hand around it. He moved his hand along it, adding a little pressure on his grip as he worked the other tribesman into arousal.

Hahn’s smirk faded as he watched Sokka, lust turning his gaze dark. He hummed softly in pleasure and another smirk grew on his lips when Sokka glanced up at him. He looked off the side at Hahn’s predatory expression and licked his lips absently.

“Go on. Do it,” Hahn said, his voice a bit deeper than before. “Suck me off.”

Sokka’s eyes darted around in nervousness before settling on the erection in front of him. He stopped stroking and studied it; it wasn’t too different from his own, maybe a little smaller. He inwardly smiled at that, gloating to himself. He took a deep breath and let it out then closed his eyes and leaned forward.

He flicked his tongue out, softly brushing against the head. He made a face at the bitter taste, but supposed he had to get used to it. He gave another kittenish lick before taking it into his mouth. He pressed his tongue against the thick organ as he took more in.

Hahn shuddered and he closed his eyes halfway, still watching Sokka work. “Yes, good,” he muttered absently and brought a hand up to grip at the younger boy’s hair.

Sokka opened his eyes and looked up, moving away a little when he felt his hair being tugged softly. He quickly brought his hands up and rested them on Hahn’s hips when he was pushed down farther onto his cock. He gagged a little and took a deep breath to calm his throat.

Hahn groaned softly when throat muscles contracted around him. He tightened his grip in the others hair and began to rock his hips forward, fucking the boy’s mouth.

Sokka closed his eyes again, feeling tears prick at his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was from shame or pain, but he didn’t want to analyze it either. He struggled to keep his throat muscles loose and still breathe. He’d stopped licking and sucking but he doubted Hahn had even noticed.

After another minute, Hahn came with a soft groan, his grip on Sokka’s hair tight enough to pull out some of it. Sokka winced then jumped slightly at the liquid suddenly in his mouth. He gagged at the sudden rush and taste, but instinctively swallowed. He pulled away when his hair was released, a little bit of cum dripping down one side of his mouth. He wiped at it, transferring it to the cloth around his waist.

“Don’t do that,” Hahn said, voice startling Sokka. He looked up questioningly.

“You need to keep your clothes clean. Along with yourself, obviously—no one will want to use you if you’re dirty. That was good, but I had to do too much work. Go clean yourself a little and we’ll try it again.”

\--

Hahn led a newly clothed and clean Sokka down the halls a couple hours later. The strings of bells wrapped around each of Sokka’s ankles sounded with each step he made. He was sure he’d get annoyed with them soon, but he couldn’t take them off—not if he wanted to stay safe. Hahn had explained their use but he hadn’t been listening; something about only certain people being able to order him or something.

Sokka stopped walking and tore his gaze from the floor, up to the other. Hahn had stopped right outside an ornate door—or at least ornate compared to the dungeon-like quarters he had been living in. Hahn took out a small key from inside the pouch that was stitched into his sarong and unlocked the door.

“This will be your room from now on. Eventually you might have to share it.”

Sokka nodded absently as he walked in and gazed around. Just like everything else in this country it was decorated in blacks and red with a small splash of orange or yellow to catch your eye. There was a soft-looking double bed next to a simple night stand and snug into the far corner, while a tall chest of drawers was laid against the adjacent wall. Next to it was a fairly long mirror which hung above a vanity desk, a small wooden chair tucked into the cropping. On the opposite side of the room sat an empty basin—which he supposed would be used for quick bathing—was a small chest next to it, probably filled with soaps and scented oils.

It really was a nice room, but it wasn’t home.

He sighed and sat on the beds edge, glancing over at Hahn. “Anything else?”

Hahn walked over to the desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a single tube. He tossed it over to Sokka, who caught it easily. It was lube. “Make sure you always have that with you, just in case. Keep it in the pouch on your sarong; it shouldn’t get in the way during anything else.” He sighed lightly and leaned against the desk. “Remember what I told you. You could serve anyone: girl or boy, top or bottom. Remember to always keep yourself stretched even when you’re not expecting anything.”

He stepped away from the piece of furniture. “There’s supposedly a private choosing happening soon—one of the royals is getting restless, or so the rumors say. With any luck you’ll be chosen and only have to serve them until they get bored again.”

Sokka nodded a little and bit at his bottom lip. This really was all too much and it kept creeping up on him what he would have to do from now on.

Hahn moved towards the door, stopping at the entrance and glanced back. He smirked lightly and said, “Welcome to your new life, Sokka.”

He left and closed the door, leaving Sokka to his thoughts inside the oppressing room.

**Author's Note:**

> This fiction is on indefinite hiatus. I still WANT to finish it, but it's been a long time since I wrote it, so there are no guarantees.


End file.
